Or die trying
by BlackCherry16
Summary: Woodbury's men came to take the prison, oh they did. The survivors of Atlanta were outnumbered and outgunned. But they had one advantage: They were family. Family, you do anything for to keep them save. Or die trying. (After 3x15)
1. Chapter 1

_Pairing: _none, it's gen ;)

_Wordcount:_+7 000

_Spoilers:_ The story takes place immediatly after 3x15 _"This sorrofwul life", __includes spoiler from the finale promo!_

_Warning:_Character Deaths

_Disclaimer: _Just borrowing these amazing characters.

_Note: _I am so absoulty excited for the season finale! I kind of couldn't wait, so I wrote my own version of it. Special thanks to my friend who corrected this story! (Thank you, dear! :3) We are both non-native english speakers, so I hope you don't mind if you should stumble over some mistakes. Enjoy!

* * *

He stumbled back through the forest, keeping close to the mainroads, but still keeping his distance. Branches were scratching along his face like chalk on a blackboard as he made his way through the underbush. He didn't even bother to swat them away. They left marks along the way, angry and red.

But right now he didn't even _care_.

He didn't feel anything. It didn't hurt, didn't raise a single emotion out of him.

He just felt _empty_. There was something missing inside of him, ripped away as if some stupid walker had already gnawed at him and tore a big hole in his insides.

_I just want my brother back._

And wasn't that one big _fuck you _from the universe, right in his face.

After one year, one goddamn whole year he didn't know whether his brother had made it. He always thought he did. After all, it was Merle. This man was irrepressible. The only thing he had left to hold on to was his brothers hand- cut off; like a signal that he didn't need to reach out for him anymore.

But then he found him. Well, not under the best cirumstances but he had finally found him. He didn't know whether he was relieved when he had, but there he was, side by side, shoulder against shoulder, fighting the nightmares like they always had. Never had done different.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Merle had planned. He immediately knew it as he saw Michonne in the field. Alone and uncuffed, bringing her sword down to the walkers head with one smooth motion. Walkers were swarming the actual meeting point which Rick hadn't planned on going to. They all knew the Governor was fooling them. And so did Merle. He must have drawn the walkers to the wrecked before shooting as many of the sick bastard's men as he possibly could.

In the end Merle chose his side.

But no one was there to see it.

As he stabbed his brother, this _thing_, he was so full of rage, angry at himself and the world. He wanted to kill that man of a Governor. Slowly and painfully. Thought about running to Woodbury.

But it was reckless. He would most likely drop dead at the first step he took into this town. He couldn't do anything without people anymore, just like he told his brother this morning. So he made his way back to his group, turning his back on his brother and leaving him for good this time.

_Brother against brother. Winner goes free._

Funny enough he didn't feel like one.

* * *

It was sheer luck that he came back to the prison, this _tomb_, as the others called their home, just in time. He took the hot-wired car that died along the way, spurting the last part of the distance.

Cars were parked in the yard, the trunks stuffed with the belongings they had gathered over the months.

It was Carl who noticed him approaching, letting him in.

His feet shuffled through the dirt, his crossbow hanging loosely over his shoulder, letting the familiar weight rest there. He noticed the others stopping with whatever they were doing, looking up at him.

Glenn's lips were pressed in a thin line, his expression blank as he was finished cramming another one of their duffle bags in the back of the car. They all took in his form, battered and broken. If they noticed his puffy, red-smeared face, they didn't comment on it.

Then finally someone broke the unspoken tension.

Next to him Carl was shifting from one foot to the other, raking his head to get a better look through the wired frame. His gaze was interested in the trees below; looking, searching. As if he could force with sheer willpower alone for another figure to pop up behind the trees, out of the cover.

"Where is Merle?"

He could feel that all of a sudden all eyes were on him, waiting.

The hunter looked down, there was no need to say anything.

A gasp escaped from the person to his right, Carol's hand moving to her mouth. He heard a grim huff. The others remained silent, stoic even, their expression marginally changing.

For them it was just another man down. They barely even knew him. Merle wasn't family for them. Never was and now definitely never would be.

"You know, we decided to move. Clear the place before the Govenor gets here."

It was obvious, he wasn't stupid and they knew it. But somehow Maggie needed to fill the silence as it was turning uneasy for all of them.

Michonne joined them, loading one of her belongings in the back of the Honday. Her eyes met his, her expression being unreadable. He quickly moved his head to the side.

Unexpected, slim fingers brushed against his leather jacket.

As he looked down, her eyes were glistening with moist. Whether it was actually for Merle, him loosing the only real family member he had left, or the whole situation in general he wasn't sure. But they seemed so hurt, so broken, pitiful even. Understanding.

"I'm so sorry." Carol's hand slowly ran down the side of his arm, leaving a tingling feeling.

He wasn't used to that. Didn't need that crap, didn't want it either, for that matter.

So he did the thing he was best at: he lashed out.

"Save it." he snapped, brushing away from the comforting hand, leaving her dumbstruck and fighting her own demons, striding to the prison doors.

The sooner they got out of this goddamn place the better.

* * *

He took two stairs at a time, passing the old crib with _Little asskicker _on it, now abandoned and replaced with the new, larger cot,making his way to his cell for the last time.

Entering, he found his cell already nearly cleared out aside from the neatly packed duffel bag and his old crossbow, waiting for him at the end of the rack.

Cursing for whoever went through his personal stuff- probably Carol, he grabbed it and - without another glance - left.

On his way back to the stairs, he stopped when he passed Merle's cell.

He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He really meant to leave, not giving it a glance. But his eyes spotted the stuff which was scattered on the floor and the next moment he was hunkered down on the cold concrete, his bag flap falling off his shoulder, gathering his brother's worn-out undershirt, his crumpled pants, anything that fell into his hands, and stuffed it in his bag.

The hunter heard the old man long before he leaned against the door frame, looking down at him. The loud click of metal on metal had given him away at the stairs.

The farmer didn't say anything, just stared ahead. Daryl wondered why the hell people couldn't mind their own damn business and considered asking him to spill out already whatever was eating at him.

But just as he opened his mouth, Hershel cleared his throat.

"He was a good man."

Daryl stopped for a moment, then got up. He stepped over the torn mattress, his back still facing the door.

Huffing, he sat down on the bed, turning over the pillow and reaching for the small paperball that was hidden there, safely tugging it in his backpocket.

Behind him Hershel shifted, re- adjusting the grip on his crouches that scraped along the floor.

"Your brother. Deep down he was."

"What's with ya people?" Daryl barked, angrily stuffing the rest of his brothers belongings in his bag.

He corded it up loosely, slinged it over his shoulder and grabbed his crossbow. "Didn't give a rat's ass about him before. "

He straightened himself, crossed the room and suddenly he was up in the old man's face. So close he could feel the other man's breath on him.

He stared down at him, glaring.

"Ain't a little late now, don't ya think? "

* * *

Considering their new situation they were doing remarkably well.

Thanks to his brother, some men of the Governor's army had already been taken down. They had decided to leave this place as fast as possible, making a run for it. Staying was not an option anymore and everyone was aware of that. If they stayed, this was going to be their graveyard.

So they packed up everything they could. Even gathered new stuff they found useful.

They were doing so well.

Until they weren't. And all hell broke loose.

* * *

The sling dangled by his side, his bag bumping into his new crossbow at his shoulder.

From the trunk he could see a mop of dark brown hair buried deep inside the front of the car. Maggie glanced up at him, as he lowered the crossbow. " Sorry, this one is full." her voice is muffled. "But there is still place in the other one." The next moment, her head was already buried deep inside the front again, busy storing ammunition in the driver's door.

He was grateful for her not mentioning Merle. Gave him the space he needed. Merle was his blood after all. She understood. She had already lost one of her siblings.

"I'll get Rick, tell him we are nearly packed." With that, Glenn slammed one of the doors shut, trailing off to go to the tower where the ex-sheriff kept guard.

Carl approached with a large bag full of rifles just as the hunter positioned his equipment in the trunk. He looked down and grabbed the heavy duffel from the small kid's hands, stacking it on top of all the other things.

It went downhill from there.

He could hear someone shouting, then the loud crash of a bullet going through a window, leaving him shrinking to the ground, taking Carl with him. Fragments of broken glass were covering his head, some were sliding down the back of his shirt.

"_Everybody get down_!"

He could hear Rick frantically shouting from the tower, and Carl's loud gasp of surprise. But it was tuned down, muffled by the sudden rain of gunfires. It took a moment for the sudden rush of adrenaline to kick in.

The piercing roar of a motor followed, a Ford crossing the barrier of chain-link fence like it was nothing. The trunk was yanked open, dead men staggering out of it, making the way to their group.

He got up from his crouching position and fired an arrow at one approaching walker, ducking down again as a shot missed his head by an inch. Both of the kid's hands made it to his ears, shielding them from agonizing sounds of the gunfire. The boy turned, fired a few bullets then ducked again.

Bullets were hitting metal, scratching along the material in an awful, awful sound that left their ears ringing.

"Get under the car." Daryl said through clenched teeth.

They could have handled the shooters or the walkers, alright - one at a time. But with both closing in on them they lost the handle on the situation.

Over the moans and the shooting he heard a body going down by the other side of the car.

_Fuck._

He didn't turn, didn't look.

Just in time he stepped to his right, thus escaping the clawing hands coming from the side but bumping right into the second walker that stepped up right next to him.

With a shove, one of the unliving was pushed away. Providing him seconds to handle one of them successively. He gripped the collar of the former businessman, driving the end of his knife right home in its forehead with full force. With a kick backwards, Daryl brought down the other one, which tumbled to the ground, crashing its skull with the end of his crossbow.

He got on his knees, crouching behind the front door as bullets continued to rain down on them.

From this position he could see Maggie laying motionless on the pavement.

Leaning back against the metal door, he brought his crossbow down, aiming the leading edge to his toes and slipping one of his feet in the stirrup. Pulling the bow-string back effortlessly, he snatched a new perfect bolt from his back, sliding it onto the deck and pushing it backwards.

With a small click it snatched in place.

Cursing, he crocked his head back and briefly closed his eyes.

Shifting, he got to the edge, snatching a quick peek around his hiding-spot, trying to locate the shooter.

Just seconds later, the arrow found its way into the man's neck, hitting dead on.

Next moment he could make out shuffles of quick, faltering steps of boots, then a slim figure took shelter behind the trunk, dark, long dreadlocks falling in her face. She looked at him, gave him a quick nodd and that was all he needed. With his back covered, he pushed away.

He reached Maggie's side crawling, his hands immediately grazing over the thick, dark vest she was wearing.

Two. No, _three_ bullets were stuck.

He noticed something was _very_ wrong when his hands got wet anyways.

There was an explosion, the force brought him down to the figure below, sharp edges biting in his skin as he braced his weight with his hands.

_What the -_

Looking back, he took a moment to process what his eyes were seeing. Something hit the guard tower. It was up in flames. Burning.

_Rick. Glenn._

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, pushed the fear down. His fingers were working on the straps of the vest, roughly pushing it aside.

Unfocused, blurry eyes were staring back at him, tracking his movements sluggishly.

Her hand touched his chest as he was leaning over her closely, his body shielding her from further harm. He worked on her vest, pulling it away from the gunshot to get a better look at it. She pushed weakly at first then with more determination, the message clear.

Instead his hand found hers, entangling in her slippery ones, the blood almost making him loose and adjust his grip twice. Guiding their arms to the lower part of her side, he pressed both of their palms on the gaping wound, hard; forcing a low moan out of her lips.

"No can do.", his voice hissed. "Ain't leaving ya. "

One hand found its way to her neck while the other snaked under the hollow of her knees. "C'mon, girl."

They needed to get out of here. _Now._

Standing, he swayed, adjusting his grip and hosting her up, as the additional weight was too much all of the sudden. Carl was shouting, bullets were fired from both sides, leaving him to haunch over.

Hot, shallow puffs of air were grazing his neck. The feeling of warm blood soaking his vest and his jacket, sticking to his sweat-soaked skin left a gut-wrenching feeling inside of him.

* * *

It were just a few meters separating the both of them from the prison entrance, but it might have been kilometers just as well. A walker crossed their path, with his hands full, all he could do was to shove it away.

It spun, was back on them in an instant.

It was hard and slow-going, but they made it inside just fine.

She was hanging limply in his arm; one arm was awkwardly trapped between their upper bodies, the other arm dropped by his side, bumping into his knee as he started to run up the stairs as fast as he could.

He staggered, hands gripping her tightly as the farmer's daughter threatened to slip from his grasps.

"Alright, alright, here we go..."

It was not until he lowered her down that he noticed her blank eyes staring into nothing, her breath long gone.

He was gentle when he pressed his hand over her empty eyes, letting it rest there for a brief moment. He could feel some dampness where a single tear had made its way down her cheek, stopping halfway in its tracks because it had nothing to go on anymore.

Soft, feathery-like lashes brushed against his fingers, as he guided his hand down towards her chin.

His jaw was clenched, his lips forming a grim line when he got up again.

One of his precious bullets ripped through the air, hollow and broken.

* * *

Gun fire lit the yard, looking like bright sparks as darkness fell.

It was pure chaos.

They were nearly out of ammunition, arrows, people, _his_ people, fucking_ everything_.

He was inside the prison now, cut off from the rest of them as walkers blocked the way out, too many to take out on his own.

He backed up, didn't see anyone, there was just the smell of dead coming closer to him. Then he saw her, would have mistaken her for a walker but the familiar mop of blond hair was illuminated by the moonlight that shone through the windows. The low shushing noises she made gave her away.

Within three strikes he stood in front of the cell she had locked herself into. But the iron bars would only hold the dead away, not living people.

She looked up in complete surprise, her face pale and oddly calm.

Then she stormed to him, clutching the iron bars, the bundle on her was squirming,

It all come out in one hysterical rush.

"We are okay, We are- I just made it over here. Where is everyone? Oh my God, are they alright? There was an explosion and...Oh god, Maggie? Dad? Have you seen them? Where is everyone?"

There was no time for chit-chatting, though. If they didn't leave now, they never would.

"We need to leave." It's all he say s as he opened the cell door.

She had come out, already reached his side when she spinned on her heels again.

"The duffel- I forgot the duffel."

She was back at his side seconds later, the duffel hanging from her back.

"C'mon, move."

He turned, took a few steps in the opposite direction. She was still standing there, staring at the approaching outstretched hands.

"Goddamnit, Beth, _move_."

Leaning backwards he caught her wrist and pulling her along with him.

His grip was too tight, it actually _hurt_, but right now she didn't care.

Her long legs had a hard time adjusting, nearly stumbling in the haste to match with his fast, determined strikes.

They went further in the prison, falling back.

* * *

"What the _fuck_," Daryl panted, suddenly stopping. If it weren't for his grip on her wrist she would have stumbled right into him.

The beam of light outlined the broken features of the once functioning safety barrier.

Someone had cut the chains with a _fucking_ bold cutter. The fences he helped Glenn to position with in order to keep out the walkers.

Realization struck him like a slap in the face.

Not only were they trapped, they were fucking _played_ with.

Someone knew that there was another way inside the prison. But his group kept watch from the guard tower all the time. And there had never been a single human - well as if there were many left to begin with - caught spying or getting even close enough to have a look . Still, someone_ knew_.

The groundplan of the prison. Knowing that there was another way in.

The Governor was one crazy fuck.

It had been planned all along. Walkers were supposed to swarm the back of the prison, blocking their route to freedom, their escape route, leaving them with only one option: Out into the yard at the front, right into the lines of fire in the arms of their enemies.

This, this was nothing but goddamn slaughter. He never left them a chance to win, never planned it in the first place.

They were so screwed.

Someone must have done it recently when they were defending the prison, their family, in the yard. When they were distracted. The fences were there to keep out walkers. No one would have anticipated someone getting there andopeningit.

Just as Daryl turned around with Beth in tow to make the way to another block, a fist landed it his face. Stabbing pain blurred his vision. With a sickening crunch his right hand was twisted, hard, the flashlight crashing uselessly to the ground. He could have sworn he heard a bone snap. And, oh yes, he definitely felt it, too.

With a violent tug, his other hand was yanked from the kid's arm.

A high pitched scream escaped her lungs, ringing in his ears. He would give her shit for drawing attention to them later, but right now he wasn't actually sure if there was _any_ reason left in even trying.

Pain flared back in his nose. He couldn't see _anything_. He blinked rapidly against the sudden darkness, trying to get a grip of the situation. Someone held him by his collar, so much he knew. He had hardly any chance to block the upcoming blow- really how should he? He literally didn't see it coming. It _stung._

He heard muffled cries from the little bundle tucked safely somewhere in the makeshift baby sling, knowing Beth was still close.

He was trying to reach for his in his knife, but a sudden blow to his trample stopped his action, leaving him dazed and dizzy.

With the grip on his collar gone, his body slumped to the ground. His head hurt, he could barely hear over the sound of his blood rushing, pulsing in his brain like a jackhammer. Yet, he could still make out the high, distressed voice of his companion.

Too bad the man got to the wrong one. Because you don't get to mess with a Dixon, _ever._

* * *

_(Red-edit the story and split into 2 parts now (: )_

_Thank you for reading! Have fun watching the finale. We probably gonna need tissues. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Note:_ Thank you _so_ much for your lovely and awesome reviews. 3 They made my day, especially since this is the first fic I ever finished writing. They really mean a lot, so thank you! :)

To all the ones who already may read the story: I cut the story in two halfs now, story is still the same as before, though.

Have fun reading!

* * *

The sudden loss of the tight grip around her wrist felt wrong.

She scrambled along the floor, on the other side of the path, a hand protectively covering Judith's small head. Her eyes were burning as suddenly they were left in complete darkness. She didn't know where to look, what was upside down and what not.

Her outstretched hand connected with cold resistance.

Hastily, she backed up, her back tightly pressed again the welcoming cool wall. Judith's sobs were cutting in the darkness.

Then rough, unwelcomed hands were touching her, pulling at her. She didn't pay attention while she scrambled to the other side of the narrow hallway, didn't know what was happening. She just knew that walkers wouldn't strike a blow. So that, that was definitely _not_ a walker. But it didn't make him any less dangerous.

"Oh God ..." she yelped, pushing her upper body even further against the wall.

She kicked with her right leg, connecting with soft, human flesh. A shoulder.

It stopped him split second before the hands were back, strong hands fastening somewhere on the hem of her shirt, pulling her down, away from the wall. With a thud, her head met the floor. She scrambled trying to kick him again, but the impact on her head left her uncoordinated.

Massive hands were pressing down on her legs, keeping them from further trashing. Panic rose inside her chest. The hands reached for her arm, digging hard into her smooth and tender flesh.

Then they were gone, drawn away from her.

She backed away, pulling Judith close. She heard shuffles, angry muffling. Cries of pain, a loud thud, a sickening crack, then silence.

Her eyes scanned through the blackness, trying to find a spot she could recognize. Moans from far away made their way closer.

"Daryl?", she whispered, it was barely audible. She was so full of fear; she thought she was going to be sick. She willed her ears to strain, to hear, but there was nothing. She held her breath, frantically blinking against the blackness.

She felt completely paralyzed.

Wetting her cracked lips, she tried again: "Dary-"

Beth shrieked, as something pushed against the denim of her jeans and another pair of hands suddenly touched her legs. They were rough, but different this time.

But just as fast as the hands came, they flinched away, as if burned.

"Woah, woah. It's me.", a familiar voice rasped. "You okay? Litte asskicker?"

His voice sounded strained, tired. She would have hardly noticed if it weren't so quiet.

Her head moved up and down rapidly. Silence stretched between them. He was waiting for something, for what she didn't know. Then it occured to her that he couldn't see her nodding, so she spoke in a hushed voice, anxiety dulling the voice of hers. "Yes."

Daryl released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Gimme your hand."

It was weird for her, stretching out her arm when she couldn't see anything. But it was soon entangled in large, warm hands. They felt sticky, and suddenly she wondered about what caused the bone-thrilling crunch that hindered their attacker to stand up again.

Her cold, sweaty fingers were bend carefully, then wrapped around the belt-loops of his jeans.

"Hold tight."

They made their way along the floor, both of them were scanning for their flashlight.

It connected with Daryl's hand and with a triumphed "Got it." from his side, there were up and back inside the prison, their escape route forgotten. There was no way through as dark figures shuffled along, bringing the unmistakable smell of death with them.

* * *

Beth was not watching where they were going, she just stumbled along with him. She could see the beam of light bouncing in the darkness. She had long lost the sense of direction, turning corner after corner, backing up when they reached a dead-end, trusting Daryl to know where he wanted to lead them.

Her fingers were still hooked in one of his belt-loops, her fingernails already drawing blood, so tightly she held onto him.

* * *

He pressed them both to the wall as he registered the upcoming groans ahead, Beth's breath loud and clear in his ears. He shut off the light, his hand moving to the sheath where he kept his knife. Beth must have heard them too by now, as he felt her body stiffen beside him, stopping her breathing in the process.

Three figures were shuffling along. Stiffly, hungrily, but so far it seemed that they were complety unaware of them. He really hoped they could keep it that way. Daryl couldn't see them, but he could make out their number nevertheless.

They passed silently, stumbling over the stuff that was scattered across the floor. He followed her suit then, holding his breath, his heart beating loud in his chest, _every_ nerve and _fibre_ in _his body on high_-_alert_. Beth was frozen next to him, not daring to move a muscle. Just as the bodies trailed off, he could visibly feel Beth relax next to him, even if it was just slightly.

Out of the blue a sudden distressed sob tore through the darkness. Beth's hand jumped to Judith mouth, silencing her. But it was too late.

Without a warning Daryl bolted, slamming one hard against the wall as the first walkers started advancing the two of them.

He drove the knife deep in its throat, right up to the brain. He could feel it slicing through. There was a tug on his arm, some other walker's head right _there_, pressing its jaw into the leather of his jacket holding him in place with surprisingly strong hands, bone already crunching. He pulled his arm close then, ramming his knife in the eye with his left. With a wrench it stumbled back and dropped to the floor.

Daryl kicked it with a snarl, breathing hard.

_Fuck. That _was close.

There was a disgusted moan as the young woman behind him blindly rammed the tilt of her knife into the biter's head. Again and again. She let go eventually, the dead body folding under itself and crashing to the ground.

They were darting around a corner when - for the tiny friction of a second - he thought he went utterly and completely blind. His eyes burned, pain flared up, so rare it tore right to his brain as he stared into the bright beam of a flashlight that might have just as well been the sun.

There was a sharp inhale of utter surprise behind it, then strong hands grabbed him by the bicep, pulling him onward.

"C'mon. Go, go, go,_ go_!"

Something must have happened with his ear drums as well because that was unmistakably Glenn's voice. And through his vision, that came in and out of focus; still thrown off balance from the intense brightness , he recognized the slim, tall silhouette in front of him. Rick. He was here, too. A figure - Hershel was pinned in the middle of these two.

The hell?

There was no time to think, though. They were running, being driven to get back deeper inside the prison. Various footsteps were echoing in these empty halls, closely followed by shuffling footsteps.

Beth was wheezing next to him, having a hard time driving in enough oxygen. But they couldn't stop, so he tugged her forward as her knees buckled and she almost faltered. Judith's cries were echoing loud and clear like a bell in this deathtrap.

It was him this time who nearly bumped into the person running in front of him who came abruptly to a halt.

"Oh, _shit_. Shit,shit, shit."

Glenn backed up, shuffles.

"Get back!"

They turned on their heels, moving into the other direction, only stopping when the smell of rotten flesh hit them. There were faint outlined silhouettes moving in the shadows, coming closer.

They were swarmed from both sides now.

Tugging the flashlight between his teeth, Daryl lifted his crossbow. The one closest to him dropped to the floor, followed by another as a bullet bored into its brain. Right away two stepped in. More and more were following suit.

His crossbow glided to the floor, ready to reload.

Muffled, alarmed shouts mixed with the groans.

"The door! Open the door!" There was a loud "Stand back." from Rick, followed by a shot. A chain rattled then dropped to the floor. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the other side, but it was either getting eaten or walking into the unknown.

Daryl was still fumbling with the string of his crossbow, never having done it one-handed before; his broken hand was frigging useless. There was not enough time, though, so the hunter just grabbed the arrow, pulled forward and stabbed it into the brow of the upcoming walker. With a sick crunch, he yanked it out again.

The figures behind him, alive and breathing, sprung into action. Glenn squeezed in first, followed by Beth and Judith. Then Hershel was helped through the gate.

It was only Rick and him now, back on back, standing on the other side of the door, trying to ward off the outstretched hands. The bodies were reaching forward, stumbling over the already fallen comrades.

"Daryl!"

"Rick!"

The needy hands were pressed flat against the door now, closing it again. Daryl nearly gagged as they pressed on, only his knee separating him from a walker, the smell of death so close it made him woozy. At the corner of his eye he saw a shadow lurching, stumbling into him, its teeth aiming for his throat.

Rick grabbed him by the vest then, showing him through the opening and following close behind. They stumbled, Rick nearly crashing on top of him as they made it through the door.

There was a hustle, shifting, then the door was locked with a chair.

All beams of flashlight were focused on the door, as it rattled, hands and bodies hammering against the valves from the now outside.

They all stared at the door, amazed, shocked. Everyone was breathing hard, their breath coming out as short puffs of air. It was the only sound for awhile. This, and Judith wailing.

He didn't know how long it lasted; it seemed like hours before they started moving again. Hershel was lowered to the ground, a gasp coming from him. Glenn's flashlight illuminated the grazing wound in his shoulder. Beth was crouching in front of her dad, hugging him tightly.

Daryl's chest was still rising and falling fast.

The air was stale, reeking of rotten bodies.

"Carl." Rick distressed voice rose. Only one word; but everyone knew what he was asking, even though Daryl wasn't sure if he wanted an answer to that. If Rick could handle another loss.

"Think I have seen him with Carol." Hershel said, his voice out of breath but still lingering his composing calmness. "Michonne is with him as well. I might be mistaken, but I saw them outside. He is in good hands, Rick.", he encouraged him.

"Maggie. Has anyone seen Maggie?"

Something in Daryl twisted. He kept quiet, though. He didn't know how to deliver the news that the kid's love of his live died in his arms. For fuck's sake, these two wanted to get married; he had seen the ring on her finger as he took her down. They wanted to have an happily ever after in this twisted, cruel world, believing that they could have it.

"I need to get to her." Glenn made a move towards the door, but before he could reach it, Rick was blocking the way.

"Let me pass." he snarled. "Rick, let me go, I mean it."

"Your are not thinking straight." Rick hands were up, his voice calm and soft, signaling him to keep it easy.

"I can't leave her outside, okay? I just can't!" Glenn recoiled then,pushing past Rick. Daryl twitched, ready to step forward, but Rick already had him by the shoulders, shoving him backwards with care.

"I know how you feel, I _know_. " he confessed, his voice bitter and full of pain. Rick ducked his head, so that he could look straight into the other man's eyes. "But we can't go out there. Not now." If they opened the door no one was worrying about anything anymore.

Glenn stared back, nostrils flaring, not quite statisfied with Rick's words.

"We'll find her, alright? We'll find everybody. "

Glenn let go then, trailing back, his palms digging deep into his eyes.

_To hell with that_, Daryl thought. Now might be the time as good as any.

He cleared his throat, formed over the sentences in his head how the hell he was going to say it. He came away empty. Pussyfooting around it wouldn't help any of them, though.

The flashlight landed on him, followed by all four sets of eyes. It was the first time they acknowledged his presence in this room since he remained silent during their emotional exchange.

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

_Sorry, your soon-to-be-wife is dead? I fucked up big time._

"What is it?", Rick pressed, a hint of _- was that worry?- _in his voice.

He swayed to the side a bit, one of his feet stepping in front of the other.

He opened his mouth. Just as he was about to say something he was cut off, Glenn's flashlight landing on his right arm he held protectively in front of his body.

"Hey man, you are bleeding."

Daryl wanted to shrug it off "'S nothin'.", but the tiny man didn't take his word for granted. With the adrenaline ebbing a way, he suddenly felt light-headed. Well, maybe he _did _underestimate it a little bit.

There was a strange tingling sensation in his arm similar to the one when you cut off your blood flow, but _different._

Glenn was on him a second later, peeling up the sleeves, not paying attention as he grabbed the hunters broken hand with too much force. Out of reflex, Daryl tried to flinch away, but his hand was trapped in that iron grip. He pushed the fabric up, revealing skin that was of an angry red, blood oozing sluggishly out of deep holes. The blood was not even red anymore.

His air left his lungs as if he had taken a blow to the stomach.

Well_, he'll be damned._

Some _motherfucking_ walker took a bite of him.

After that it was all a blur.

He barely remembered their shocked faces after his wound on the arm was exposed.

With grit and determination he tried to take a step backwards, away from the invading hand on his arm, away from everyone. But his knees gave out under him. There was a tight grip under his upper arm, another strong arm sneaking around his waist, keeping him from face-planting.

"Woah, easy now, Daryl." Rick. It was Rick's voice, close to his ear. "It's okay, you're okay", the ex-sheriff repeated like a mantra when, really, he was fucking _not_.

He wanted to snarl at him _I can walk on my own, thank you very much. I'm not a fucking baby_. Or maybe an insult, something, but his body was betraying him.

Faces were invading his line of vision. He felt trapped and boxed in. They were saying something, mouths moving, but he couldn't possibly make out what they are saying. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton candy. The world went black around the edges, they were fading in and out of vision. Then he lost consciousness.

* * *

Light shone through the tiny window frames, creating a path that was illuminated, bringing color in the cheerless amount of grey. Tiny dusk grains swirled around in the air, tumbling over one another, some away from each other, as if they were dancing.

The sun was so bright, so vivid, it hurt. Still, he wasn't able to tear his gaze away.

Another day broke. And miraculously, they made it. The willpower and sheer will to _save_ and _protect_ was far stronger than the drive to kill and destroy.

Though not all of them lived through the night.

He tried, tried to keep them save, he really did.

It wasn't enough though, it was never enough.

Glenn was slumped over the motionless form of his girlfriend. Her pale hand was trapped between the Korean's forehead, carefully betted between his hands. A bang of guilt made it through his stomach, leaving him with a cold feeling that had nothing to do with the fever.

It was not Merle lying there, but this hurt just as badly.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

Now they were back to square one when they had first arrived to the prison. The yard belonged to the walkers, the group crammed in one place, the other blocks were all taken over by the undead. All the effort they had made in the last months, that had cost them so much, gone. Destroyed within a single night.

He could see Rick pacing around. His fingers pressed to his tight lipped mouth, thinking.

His head was spinning and his clothes were clinging to his skin like he grew a second layer of it. His body didn't feel like it was his own anymore, like he was sharing it with something else already.

Cowboy boots continued shuffling over the concrete.

Back and forth and back again.

Jesus, Rick was driving him_ nuts_.

He drew his arm closer to him, imagining he had fresh earth and grass between his fingers instead of grime and blood.

They had talked about it already, it was out of the question what needed to be done. He would do it himself, but he couldn't even _move _anymore. He felt like a rag doll, only all strings were cut.

Somewhere in between sitting with his back to the wall Rick's boy dropped next to him. Just sat there for a while, saying nothing. Playing with the cords of his cowboy hat.

Shivers continued to run through Daryl's battered body. His bones arched. The throbbing in his head continued to grow. It wasn't going to be much longer now.

"Take care of little asskicker and yer dad, 'kay?" he rasped suddenly. "And the rest of 'em." he added, swallowing hard.

Carl looked up at him, stopping with the cords. His head lowered, then he nodded."I will."

Eventually, Rick stopped pacing - fucking finally-, coming to a halt a few meters away from him. His hand moved to the holster, jaw working silenty.

Daryl was not a man of good-byes. The others must have sensed it, his discomfort, so they stayed back in the shadows.

It was Beth, though, who walked towards him. He cursed her fucked-up sense of knowledge of human nature, because- _really? _Couldn't she see that he wanted everyone to back the hell off? However, it was forgotten as her long limps sneaked clumsily around his sweat soaked neck, her head buried inside the crock of his neck, letting her tears fall and soaking the hem of his shirt.

Overwhelmed by the situation, a total loss how to deal with it, he let her.

He felt her breath hitch, as closely as her thin frame was pressed against his torso. Ugly, muffled cries joined the tears.

It hurt. Every fiber of his body of was in _agony. _The constant dull pain, flared up, spread from his chest to his arms and even to his damn toes. It was hard to suppress the grunt that threatened to escape his lips.

Somewhat awkwardly, he sluggishly rested his head on top of hers. The tiny movement let his vision spin like a rollercoaster, so he slammed his eyes shut, took a deep breath.

The smell of earth, gunpowder and something very fresh, fruity, he couldn't put his finger on it, cherry maybe, filled his sense, letting him take him to a better world, if only for a brief moment.

"Beth, honey, just -".

It was Carol, who joined them then, resting a hand on the other woman's shoulder, ready to take her back to the others.

If it was even possible, the young woman's body melted even further against his, her arms winding around his neck, tighter this time.

After one long moment, she let go.

"It's not fair." she whispered, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that continued to fall.

Then she was up, moving to the others.

Carol took her place and damnit, could Rick end this already?

Her fingers ghosted over his face, afraid to touch.

"I just ..." she stopped, searching for the right words, her voice shaky. "Thank you. For looking for my little girl. For everything. ", she pressed her lips together as tears filled her eyes.

His eyes darted across her face, then back to the floor. It meant to be soothing, but it was just another reminder how much he had failed in his life.

After a moment of hesitation, she leaned in. His body tensed when her lips brushed against his cheek, soft and sweet.

She smiled at him with glassy eyes as she slowly drew away. The smile didn't reach her eyes, though.

Behind her, Rick shuffled.

No one said anything for a while.

"S funny, you know. " A low, deep chuckle escaped his lips,his voice sounding foreign even in his own ears. "Took ya four damn tries to finally pull that trigger. All good things come in threes my ass."

Rick eyed him, body stiffening.

Suddenly, he stepped towards him, closing the distance in two large strikes. Daryl tried to press down the panic, that was suddenly rising inside of him. Somehow, he was not prepared for it to happen so soon. So out of place. Good, he thought, it was better this way, anyway.

Quick. Fast. Unexpected.

As Rick arm rose, he couldn't resist the urge to press his eyes close.

_Fucking_ _coward ya are, _he heard rough voice spitting, disgusted. _Pussy._

He waited for the blissful, redeeming shot to the head. Instead a hand landed on his shoulder, warm and surprisingly welcomed. It lingered there, burning through his layers of clothing, to his fever-driven skin. He heard a shuffle, a_ snack_ of a knee bending. The other hand clasped the back of his sweat-soaked neck.

As he opened his eyes, the sun was blocked by the figure crouching in front of him. Warm, blue eyes were searching his, millions of different kind of motion displaying in them. Some of them he couldn't quite understand, didn't even know of their existence. Rick's jaw was clenched tight, so tight, he knew it must hurt him.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gentle; once, twice, before standing and making his way to his previous spot.

Pain flared up where he squeezed his shoulder, making him nauseous.

No words were spoken, but yet so much was being said.

He could see Carol standing next to Michonne, her mouth moving. She was crying, he saw it in the way her chin moved, quivered. Held in her arms was Beth, her tear-streaked face buried in her father's shoulder.

Rick had his back turned on him, the rifle resting on his forehead, his eyes were pressed closed. With a long exhale, he turned. He raked his hand through his sweat-soaked hair, the weapon still clutched tightly between his fingers.

Facing him, Rick adjusted the Colt in the grip, shifting the weight of it in the right position. It was an illusion, but the gun felt heavy, heavier than ever before. Bringing his weight down a bit.

Their eyes looked, red-rimmed eyes staring back at him, two hard lines formed between the former sheriffs' eyebrow.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rick raised the gun, still fiddling with his handle of the weapon.

Then, finally, the barrel pointed directly at his slumped, battered body, right at his head. The index finger looped around the trigger. With a tight nod, he adjusted his grip once more. Gritting his teeth, Daryl thought the jaw must snap any moment now.

Daryl stared back, ducked his head in a nod. Then closed his eyes.

The sun was warm against his skin. Moving lights were crossing behind his eyelids - some black, some orange. Red and yellow was in there, too. Tiny sparks were joining. If he were into art, he would call it very close to a masterpiece. Funny, how you never pay attention to the little things in life when there is still time for it.

It was beautiful, calming in a way. Peaceful even.

For a brief moment his thoughts drifted to Sophia, wondering whether he would see her again. Innocent and alive and kicking. _Save_. But he doubted the little girl would even remember him, let alone recognize him.

Maybe, maybe he would see Merle.

He breathed in the sun-soaked air, a dull pain arching through his body, leaving him light-headed.

Then a gunshot tore through the silence.

There was no desperation.

No pain. No fear.

Nothing.

_end_

* * *

_Thank you for reading!  
_


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